


A Team Player

by HannaM



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Anal Play, BDSM, Biting, F/F, Fingerfucking, Mentions of past self-harm, Scent Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-15
Updated: 2013-04-15
Packaged: 2017-12-08 14:43:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,258
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/762536
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HannaM/pseuds/HannaM
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Narcissa is scouting for a professional Quidditch team to buy, when she discovers a new submissive.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Team Player

**Author's Note:**

> Notes: Lucius/Narcissa is still a thing in this fic, though they have an open relationship. There's implied Tom Riddle/Ginny Weasley, though it could also be read as implied Lucius/Ginny- whichever you prefer.
> 
> For prompt Narcissa/Ginny, bite

Narcissa remembers when she used to play Quidditch.

(Her husband never did, though he was encouraging of their son when he showed a natural affinity for flying)

Being a female player in those days was difficult, especially when you were on the small side. The burly Beaters would try to make grabs for her breasts in the locker room, and call her a lesbian when she hexed them for it- and that was just her own team. The opposition would always aim to hit her in the face, and laugh when she spun away in terror knowing that a broken nose could spell doom for her marriage prospects.

No doubt it was easier for Miss Weasley. She came of age at a time when the Holyhead Harpies had already forced wizarding England to take them seriously, and, if Draco was to be believed, always made sure to have a boyfriend to protect her on or near the team when she played for Gryffindor.

Narcissa hates her for that. Blood traitors should have more obstacles to overcome, not less.

"I won't bark for you," Miss Weasley says flatly, collared and on all fours. She is an obstinate little thing, unwilling to admit her desire to submit until the very last moments.

Still, Narcissa raises her eyebrows. "Did I ask for you to speak at all?"

Miss Weasley scowls. Her nipples are visibly hard through the curtains of her red hair, though Narcissa has made sure the temperature in the room is comfortably warm (she only believes in very specific discomforts).

Poor little tainted thing. Narcissa loves Lucius fiercely, but in this particular case, she sees it as her calling to fix what he, however inadvertently, broke.

There are still scars on the outside of Miss Weasley's thighs, ridged and clustered in small areas. Narcissa knows they were self-inflicted.

She taps them with her wand. "Did you want to die, or simply enjoy the pain?"

"If I wanted to die," Miss Weasley muttered, after a pause, "there would have been easier ways."

Narcissa's examination complete, she flicks her wand to pull Miss Weasley upright. The defiant expression is still on her face, but there are traces of fear in her eyes. That will never do.

"You may refuse anything I ask of you," Narcissa says gently. "There will be no punishment for refusing to perform."

Miss Weasley narrows her eyes. "How do I know I can trust you?"

"You never would have come if you didn't."

Finally, the blood traitor's gaze drops, and the defensiveness melts from her features. "I'd rather stand or sit."

"Very well." Narcissa is nothing if not an accommodating domme. "Accio stool."

A fluffy green stool with lion's feet flies in, and settles itself beside the redhead. Miss Weasley makes to sit, but Narcissa clicks her tongue. "No. You stand."

Walking around her one last time, Narcissa pauses in front of the blood traitor, and trails a finger down between her small freckled breasts. Her flesh is firm, and pleasing to the touch, and Miss Weasley sighs when Narcissa draws away.

She still smells of sweat from the Quidditch pitch- the back of her neck and knees are sticky with it. It's a smell Narcissa has always enjoyed, and this is no exception. She licks Ginny's neck slowly, and Miss Weasley groans, her knees shaking.

Narcissa slides her hand up the side of the redhead's hip, slowly, so she can object if a sensitive place is touched, until she finds the sweat underneath her right breast.

"Were you satisfied with your performance this afternoon?" she says conversationally, massaging the breast with her thumb.

"No," Miss Weasley says, her breath coming in short gasps. "Did you see the match?"

"The Harpies demolished Puddlemere United, as I recall."

"A bludger almost got me," she manages, "I made amateur mistakes."

"The team is strong enough to keep them from getting out of control." On the last word, Narcissa laces her fingers into the hair between Ginny's legs, and Ginny inhales sharply. "I'm thinking of buying them."

Miss Weasley stiffens. "You mean your husband is."

"If that was what I meant, I would have said it." Narcissa sniffs. "You think I am his creature, then?" Her finger slides down to press against Miss Weasley's engorged clitoris.

"No-" Narcissa takes her finger off, and Ginny quickly adds, "I mean, you do share a bank account, so technically what's yours is his, I didn't say anything about him owning you-"

Narcissa flicks the redhead's clitoris, and she cries out. "You said you would prefer to stand or sit. But I should like to see your arse."

"I can bend over," Miss Weasley says breathily. She places her hands evenly against the wall, and moves her legs further apart.

Narcissa spreads the cheeks of the younger woman's arse with care. Her cunt is slick, and it is easy to draw the lubrication to the second hole, rubbing it in slow circles. She prefers not to soil herself with the penetration of a blood traitor's arse, but Narcissa adores seeing a woman in this position, and the play will excite Miss Weasley's libido without giving her full satisfaction.

"How did you know?" the blood traitor groans, arching into Narcissa's touch.

"From now on, you will speak only when spoken to, and you will call me Mistress," she returns, moving her fingers to the thin flesh between arsehole and cunt, and grinding them against it at a faster pace than she had been using.

"Yes, Mistress," Ginny gasps. "Please, Mistress-"

Narcissa slaps her across her rear, hard. Miss Weasley whimpers.

The stool is perfectly placed for Narcissa to kneel behind her now, and lick the glistening labia fringed with red hair.

"Yes," Miss Weasley moans, so Narcissa bites into her inner thigh (enough to cause pain, but not to break the skin), and the moan turns into a shriek.

"Do not," Narcissa hisses against Ginny's cunt, making sure to use as much breath as possible, "disobey me."

"Never again, Mistress," Ginny moans, ever so slightly moving her arse higher into the air.

Narcissa pushes two fingers into the blood traitor's cunt, curling them to caress the sensitive muscle inside. Ginny writhes, crying out wordlessly, as Narcissa establishes a harsh rhythm inside her.

The older woman presses her nose against the small of Miss Weasley's back, relishing the beads of sweat dripping down her body. She moves a second hand around to tug on Ginny's pubic hair before returning to rub her clit between forefinger and thumb.

The second hand is for Miss Weasley's sake, but Narcissa prefers to watch her hand moving inside the eager red cunt. She introduces a third finger, and is rewarded with a whimper.

As Narcissa's experienced eyes can tell the blood traitor is close to climax, she murmurs, "Is there anything else you desire, slave?"

"M-mark," Ginny manages, desperately trying to keep pace with Narcissa's hands. "Mark me."

Narcissa licks Ginny's left arse cheek. "Here?"

"Yes."

For a second time, Narcissa bites into Ginny, this time harder, enough to leave the mark that the little slut so desperately desires, her teeth remaining clenched around the skin as Ginny's body shudders with climax, her cunt convulsing around Narcissa's fingers.

Slowly she draws her hands away, and, as Ginny begins to slump into post coital bliss against the wall, removes her mouth, and stands.

Narcissa will pleasure herself after Miss Weasley leaves. Licking her fingers slowly, she remarks, "I believe the Holyhead Harpies shall prove quite a lucrative investment. Don't you agree?"


End file.
